Google Thyself
by LightSpectrum
Summary: Hogwarts staff are forced to stay inside the school after a lockdown. Bored, they decide to try out the new magic-resistant computers. Fun ensues.
1. To The Staffroom!

Google Thyself

**Author's Notes: This is probably the most exclamation marks and italics that I have ever used in my life. Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

Chapter One: "To The Staffroom!"

"Albus!"

Albus Dumbledore looked up from the book he was reading in time to see an enraged Severus Snape storming into his office, followed by several slightly embarrassed-looking members of the staff.

"Yes, Severus?" he enquired mildly, ignoring the death-glare being sent his way.

"Is there a reason _why_ the wards are no longer letting any of us outside the Hogwarts grounds and there are about a dozen aurors guarding the perimeter?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this question for a minute or two as he watched the ire of his Potions Master build, blue eyes twinkling madly. When it seemed like he was in serious danger of getting hexed, he decided that he'd left it long enough, and answered the question.

"Yes."

"Well, then you'd better – wait, what?"

Standing in the doorway, Minerva McGonagall smirked. It had been worth being caught up in the angry whirlwind that was Snape in a bad mood just to see the normally unflappable man taken aback. Beside her, Filius Flitwick sniggered. He had been convinced to help get answers from Albus easily enough, but had found the many sets of stairs difficult due to his size.

The Headmaster in question was still twinkling. With his eyes set to somewhere between 'annoying' and 'infuriating', he elaborated. Slightly.

"Yes, there is a reason why the wards are no longer letting anyone outside the Hogwarts grounds and there are about a dozen aurors guarding the perimeter."

There was a long pause. McGonagall was trying to muffle her laughter in her Gryffindor scarf.

Snape, however, was not amused.

"And that reason would _be_ ...?"

Albus' expression finally changed from the amused smile that he had been wearing the entire conversation. Settling back into his chair, he sighed.

"Well, it all started this morning with my visit to the Ministry..."

**o o**** o**

Half an hour later, the story was nearly finished and the professors present looked equally stunned and awed. "And that," Dumbledore happily concluded, "is why arguing with the Minister of Magic is not such a good idea as it might first seem."

Flitwick looked impressed. Snape, however, seemed to be in a state of shock.

"How could that have possibly seemed like a good idea? Do Lemon Drops have some previously unknown side effects, such as – oh, I don't know, _insanity_?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Now, now, dear boy, aren't you overreacting a lit-"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. "I am NOT overreacting! The whole school is in lockdown because you lost your temper with Fudge, said that he smells like a dead hedgehog, and told him that he could 'stick his fancy politics where the sun doesn't shine'!"

Dumbledore tried and failed to repress a grin. "I also called him a son of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

There was a slightly awkward silence, and more muffled laughter, before McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "What in the name of Merlin is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Would you believe it, I'm not entirely sure."

"No, I wouldn't believe it."

"I heard Luna Lovegood mention one."

"Oh." She paused. "I believe you now. But we're still in a mess."

Staring pensively out the window at some of the Aurors, the Headmaster smiled. "I'm sure that we can make the best of this situation. We are Hogwarts Professors, are we not?"

The staff looked at each other uneasily and nodded. It wasn't saying much - technically, when possessing Quirrel, Voldemort had been a Hogwarts Professor. Even worse, so had Lockhart.

"Wait a minute," Snape said suddenly, apparently over his shock. "Term's over, the students are gone – what are we going to _do_ locked up in here over the holidays?"

There was a moment of thoughtful silence.

"Brew potions?"

"Knit kilts?"

"Minerva, you can't knit a kilt. Steal some stepladders?"

"Die horribly tragic deaths that we cannot escape?"

"Hello, Sybil, didn't see you there. Play pranks?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've always wondered what would happen if you tried to feed calamari to the Giant Squid."

"Be torn to pieces, no doubt. So ... Anyone have any ideas that might actually be interesting?"

Albus, who has stayed uncharacteristically quiet the whole conversation, finally spoke up.

"I know just the thing. To the staffroom!" 

**o o**** o**

A chorus of babbling voices echoed through Hogwarts, loud and argumentative.

"Why are we running down this corridor?"

"Hey, stop stepping on my foot!"

"_What_ is Albus humming?"

"I don't know. He said something about needing theme music, whatever that is."

"Guys?"

"I just had a thought – does Malfoy dye his hair?"

"Not unless hair dye is genetic. His spawn looks just like him."

"You can _think_?"

"Shut up, Snape."

"Guys?"

"Try and make me."

"Okay, I will."

"That was my nose, you savage! You broke my nose!"

"You _said_ to try."

"It's not broken, Severus. Man up."

"Guys?"

"Do you know what happened to the last person who told me to man up?"

"Order of Merlin, First Class?"

"_He's buried in my garden_, that's what."

"You don't have a garden."

"_He's buried in my ... flowerpot_, that's what."

"That's really creepy."

"Thank you."

"Guys! We're going the wrong way!"

They stopped and looked around. It was true. They had spent the last fifteen minutes dashing through the hallways and were at the opposite side of the castle to the Staff Room.

They looked around. They looked at each other.

"Well, why didn't you tell us that before?" 


	2. Definition of a Volunteer

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K Rowling.**

A group of arguing witches and wizards slammed open the door of the Staff Room and gratefully collapsed onto the chairs there. "_Finally,_" Flitwick sighed.

"Well, if _someone_ hadn't had to double back to get their shoelaces back from Peeves..."

"How did we manage to get lost in a castle that we've taught in for years?"

"I think Hogwarts hates us."

"Hates _you_, maybe..."

"SILENCE!" It seemed that Dumbledore had finally reached the end of his tether.

The teachers' chatter died down to a few argumentative murmurs as they faced the Headmaster.

"Right," he said quickly, before they could get distracted again. "You're worried about getting bored here until term begins, right? Well, I have a solution. Just last week, I thought that the Staff Room was getting a bit dull, so I bought the latest thing in entertainment. A computer!"

The others looked at each other quizzically. "Headmaster," Snape spoke for them in the tones of someone explaining something to a small child, "No electronic devices work at Hogwarts. You've been scammed." "Ah, that's where you're wrong!" beamed Albus, delighted.

"This is a special magic-resistant computer – cost a pretty penny, that's for sure."

Minerva looked thoughtful. "I _knew_ there was something off with that budget report."

There was another awkward silence, which wasn't really surprising. They seemed to follow Dumbledore around. There were rumours that he bred them.

"Do you mean to say," Flitwick squeaked slowly and thoughtfully, "That you used the school's funding to buy _us _a computer?"

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "Yes."

Minerva added, "The same money that was supposed to be used to keep the wards healthy and the students safe? You used it for _our_ entertainment?"

Dumbledore nodded again, slightly less calmly. "Well... yes."

He jumped as he was suddenly pulled into a group hug while the staff chorused happily,

"You're the best Headmaster EVER!"

**o o**** o**

"Now that that disgusting display of sentiment is over..."

"Oh, man up, Snape."

"...let's try out that computer."

"I take it back. That was a suggestion of a man."

"This is sexism. If I was a woman, would you shut up?"

"No, I'd tell you to man up even more."

"_Delightful_. You're worse than those dunderheads we call students."

"You know you love me."

"Oh, man up..."

**o o**** o**

The staff clustered somewhat apprehensively around their new toy. While they were all very keen on having a computer _in theory_, actually using one was a different matter.

Technologically incompetent to a man, they stared at the device and shuffled their feet.

Dumbledore was, as usual, the first to speak. "Righto. Who wants to test it out?"

There was a deafening silence. Dumbledore, however, knew the very first rule of leadership – when you want something done, give it to someone who is easy to blackmail.

"You're volunteering, Severus? Well done!" he exclaimed cheerfully, ignoring the look of abject horror on his Potion Master's face.

"No, Headmaster, I did not volunteer. Not only do you have no proof that I volunteered, I have proof that I didn't; as there's a whole room full of people who most definitely heard me _not_ volunteer."

"Oh, really?" Dumbledore twinkled. "You all heard Severus say 'I would very much like to try out this computer', didn't you?" The other teachers nodded, smirking. They had all been at the receiving end of Snape's temper at least once, and were certainly not above petty revenge. Or any other kind of revenge, for that matter.

Unfortunately for them, the man in question had other plans. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse."

"You realise that all of those mean the same thing?" Trelawney said in a rare moment of sanity.

Snape scowled and folded his arms. "I don't care. I'm not doing it."

"Funny," Dumbledore mused, "This reminds me of a story. I remember that young Severus used to be very fond of music, and he used to have this guitar with -"

He was cut off by a frantic Snape yelling, "Alright, that's enough! I'll try the damn computer!"

The Headmaster smiled, but couldn't resist one last jab; "Well done! Next time I buy stickers, you'll be sure to get a smiley face."

The staff very carefully kept straight faces as their youngest member stalked forwards, muttering under his breath about where Dumbledore could shove his stickers.

**o o**** o**

"Right. So how do we go about working the infernal device?"

"Not by hexing it. Or cursing it. Stop that. And that. _Severus_..."

"That was an accident."

"How was casting Avada Kedavra at it an accident? Minerva, take a look at it please."

"Don't worry, Albus, it's fine."

"Oh _good_."

"Severus?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Shut up."


	3. Invading The Internet

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Google, or Urban Dictionary. **

**A/N: Reviews make me happy, and thank you for reading :)**

Chapter Three: Invading The Internet

Usually, the Staff Room of Hogwarts was filled with the kind of quiet that you only get in a place where a lot of teachers are relaxing, blessedly free of students. The relaxed atmosphere had spread throughout the room over thousands of years, and the only sound would be the rustling of a hand in the ever-full bowl of Lemon Drops.

Usually.

Now, however, there was the sound of muffled cursing, and apprehensive footsteps.

Silence for a while. Then... _Click_.

A quiet humming filled the room, almost drowned out by a collective indrawn breath. The Muggle Studies teacher had left for the holidays, but had she been in room at that moment there was _no way_ she could have refrained from laughing at the sight of her colleagues gasping at a computer.

The Staff felt that their reaction was justified. They had read the manual (and bickered quite thoroughly over it), and Snape had finally pressed the button at the front. There was every reason for them to be afraid; the computer was On.

The screen darkened for a second, and then lit up with a shine that was almost blinding.

There was a moment of awed silence, before Dumbledore said, "Well, go on, Severus. Make it do something." The other Professors quickly hid behind the available furniture at this statement. Dumbledore thought of safety practices in the same way that Hagrid did – if it was 'interesting', then safety was not a problem. While Hagrid's philosophy generally applied to animals, Dumbledore's projects were much more unpredictable – apparently planning ahead took the fun out of things.

Snape looked up from where he had been flicking through the manual. "It says here that we can navigate our way around the screen with a thing called a mouse. It has a picture."

He held it up. The other teachers craned to look at it. McGonagall stared at it a while, before picking up the mouse and examining it. "Stupid muggles," she said, "this doesn't look like a mouse at all. I could transfigure it into one, though."

The Headmaster thoughtfully stroked his beard. "I wonder what happens when you use magic on a muggle item?" he mused thoughtfully. Flitwick ducked behind a desk before he replied, "Judging from past experience with your plans, Albus, something terrible."

There was universal nodding. It couldn't be denied. While the Hogwarts motto was 'Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon', the _Staff_ motto was 'Albus' Ideas Have a Tendency to Explode'.

"Oh, all right then," Dumbledore grumbled to himself, adding, "but at least let's see what it can do."

He looked over to where Snape had been practising using the mouse, with his usual sneer gone and an expression of vague bemusement. Noticing the eyes on him, Snape quickly snapped into 'teacher mode'. "Right, what this mouse does is control a little arrowhead on the screen. If you shoot the arrow at one of these," he glanced at the manual, "icons, then it will open up a program, whatever that is." He looked around. "Which shall we shoot first?"

Trelawney snatched the manual from him and began flipping through it. "You idiot!" she shrieked, somehow still managing to keep up her otherworldly tone. "It's called a cursor – you must curse people with it. A terrible omen indeed."

Snape sighed. "Fine then, which shall we _curse_ first?"

His colleagues crowded around. "What's a Microsoft?" asked Dumbledore.

Pomona Sprout spoke up from the back, having arrived late after dealing with a particularly troublesome kind of vine. "It sounds like something microscopic ... and soft? A very small pillow, perhaps?"

Snape sneer increased. "Pillows are no fun to attack. What about this – the 'Internet'?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. It was McGonagall that spoke up first. "Alright then. Let's take over the internet."

**o o o**

_Click_.

"Hmm. So the internet is a sign saying 'Google' above a little rectangular box. Muggles are easily amused."

Dumbledore sighed. This was a lot less fun than he'd thought it would be. "Can we attack the box at least?" The cursor was moved to the box on the third try, and dutifully clicked.

"Huh," said Snape. "It's turned into a line. Perhaps it's a wand now?"

McGonagall tried to push him out of the way to get a better view and gasped when she saw that the box had now filled up with letters. "Minerva!" yelled Flitwick, "You're leaning on the keyboard!"

"I wonder," said Dumbledore quietly, "Do you think we could make words?"

"I want to try this first." said Flitwick, pushing through the crowd of teachers. He painstakingly spelled out F-L-I-T-W-I-C-K into the box, and waited a second or two. "Nothing happened," he said sadly, then brightened up again. "Look at this! It's a sign saying 'enter'. Maybe this is how you get into the land of Internet to take over it."

There was a pause.

"What the hell is 'Urban Dictionary'?"

A click.

"Let's find out."

**o o o**

"It says 'A town in Bedfordshire, England, blah, blah, blah.' Let's skip to the bottom. 'It is likely most people have never, and will never go there in their lifetime. Example:

Person 1: Have you been to Flitwick?  
>Person 2: No, I have not.' "<p>

Flitwick was silent a second and then added, "Wow. That really sucks."

"HA!" McGonagall didn't even make an effort to hide her laughter.

Dumbledore had a minor coughing fit and had to have a glass of water.

Snape was as kind and caring as usual. "Even the internet knows you're boring, Flitwick."


	4. What's in a Name?

Chapter Four: What's in a Name?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Urban Dictionary, or Potter Puppet Pals. I wish I owned the Internet.  
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**I'm hoping that the saying "better late than never is true," and sorry about the five-month wait...  
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The general consensus among the teachers was that each person should type their name into Google's box and see what came up. Flitwick was especially eager to go along with this plan – something that made Snape and McGonagall very anxious, as they thought that he wanted revenge on them for laughing at his name. This theory turned out to be correct when Dumbledore asked for volunteers and he put McGonagall's name forwards, looking surprisingly malevolent for a Ravenclaw.

She scowled. "Albus, I'm not going next!"

"Now, now, Minerva, we've all got to play our part. Besides, aren't you meant to be the head of _Gryffindor_ House?" He smiled and gestured towards the computer. "Go on. It'll be fun, I'm sure."

McGonagall sighed, but followed his instructions.

She clicked on Urban Dictionary as well, not recognising the other sites and thinking that it was better safe than sorry. "Right..." Just as Flitwick had done, she began to read aloud.

"One – Minerva was the goddess of warriors, poetry, blah blah blah, medicine, weaving, blah blah blah, and music. Two – Minerva is an unusual Greek name for girls, the goddess of wisdom and war and a word used to describe wisdom and beauty." She snickered happily.

"In your FACE, Flitwick!"

The tiny Ravenclaw scowled and moved to turn away when a word on the screen caught his eye.

"You missed a meaning. What's this? Three – Minerva means when someone or something 'gets on your nerves'. Often used to indicate an extreme dislike or distaste for the subject."

There was silence. Then, so loud that a flock of owls came shooting out of the rafters;

"Screw YOU, McGonagall!"

**o o o**

Hufflepuffs are nice. This is a commonly known fact, and one that has never yet been disputed.

This is why the staff looked on in amazement as Pomona Sprout finished threatening Flitwick with a long list of both creative and rather dangerous things.

"... And then I'll feed you to the flobberworms and tell the Weasley twins they have permission to prank you and I'll push you off the Astronomy Tower if you ever, _ever_ dance again." She took a deep breath and sighed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to scrub my eyes with Bubotuber pus." The door slammed behind her as she left.

Flitwick sheepishly climbed down off the table and smoothed back his hair. "It was just a little victory dance..."

Dumbledore chuckled, "And a very fine one it was, too! Now, I believe it is Severus' turn to find the deep and important meaning behind his name?"

Snape's knuckles clenched on the armrest of his chair. "Headmaster, as the most senior faculty member, shouldn't you go next? It seems ... logical."

The Headmaster gave him his 'Dumbledorian Disappointed in You' look. Snape cringed, but didn't step any closer to the computer. "No, no, I'm going last. But if you don't want to join in, I'm sure we can find a way to fill in the time – I never finished telling everyone about you guitar, for one. The colour scheme was really _most_ impressive."

Snape wavered, but seeing the curious looks of his colleagues, he gave in with bad grace.

"Very well, then." Resisting the urge to yell "Ten points from Gryffindor!" he stepped forwards and began typing, wondering for a second why the Heads of all the Houses except Hufflepuff had alliterative names. This thought led on to the realisation that as Professor Sprout had stormed out of the room minutes earlier, she would be spared the humiliation of having her name insulted by a computer. He looked around anxiously; when Hufflepuffs are more Slytherin than Slytherins are, it is a sure sign of the apocalypse.

Still thinking about the qualities of various Houses, he looked at the screen and saw that it had loaded.

Urban Dictionary was there, but there were other options, too. Seeing as Urban Dictionary had ended in embarrassment for both his colleagues, Snape decided to use his Slytherin cunning and clicked one of the other links.

As a sign saying 'Potter Puppet Pals; Bothering Snape' popped up, he reflected that cunning is not always the same thing as intelligence.

**o o o**

Snatches of conversation and bizarrely cheerful music filtered out of the otherwise quiet staffroom.

"Is that supposed to be me? Oh...Oh god..."

"_Let's go bother Snape! Bother, bother, bother, bother..."_

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Actually, make that two hundred."

"Severus! You can't take off points when there's no students around."

"Next term's going to be fun, then."

"_Bother, bother bother bothe-""Avada Kedavra!"_

"Hey, it's getting better. I'm starting to like this puppet."

"Should we be worried about your homicidal tendencies?"

"_Hello, Severus!"_

"Albus, your puppet is adorable."

"I know. It's the purple, it brings out my beard."

"_It looks like young Harry and Ron are taking an afternoon nap. Let's see what they've got in their pockets..."_

"Awww, it's even got your morals!"

"Nothing wrong with a little bit of looting, Minerva."

"Besides the obvious, of course. Aaand... It's over. One minute and twenty-three seconds of awkwardness is finally over." Snape relaxed and finally released his death-grip on the chair.

"Trelawney's turn."

**o o o**

Unlike the other Professors, the Divination teacher didn't protest at all that her turn had come. In fact, she seemed almost eager – Dumbledore suspected she had taken his comment on 'finding the deep and important meaning of names' to heart. Trelawney was not known for her understanding of sarcasm.

As with the others, she typed in her name and clicked 'enter'. Unlike the others, she kept up a constant stream of babble about portents and omens while doing so. McGonagall, well known for her dislike of Divination and all things Trelawney, crossed her arms and scowled at the window. Dumbledore performed a remarkable feat of self- control as he managed to refrain from laughing at one of his staff pointedly ignoring the other.

Trelawney was babbling again. "My Inner Eye tells me that I am fated to click on this link about," she squinted at the screen, "Horoscopes. Ah! A sign!" McGonagall snorted and pursed her lips; Dumbledore hid his mouth behind his hand to keep from smiling.

"Scorpio, Scorpio... Here we go! 'Misfortune will fall upon you, and the Grim haunts your footsteps. Beware of false friends and shrews, or you will die a terrible death'."

Even McGonagall looked concerned as the Divination Professor's back turned completely rigid. Flitwick patted her shoulder, looking a little bewildered. "Is she in shock?"

Snape poked her shoulder experimentally, then turned her to face the others. He sighed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake... She's smiling. Is she actually smiling? Please tell me she's not smiling."

"She's smiling.

"Damn."

Trelawney spoke, sounding as if she was speaking from very far away.

"They _understand_ me! And the horoscope says so, and it sounds so dramatic..." She burst into tears.

"I've just never been so _happy!_" The staff looked at each other, then at the weeping Trelawney.

"Oh, bugger this," said Snape.

**o o o**

Many back-pattings and a few confused congratulations later, and the staff were shamelessly egging Dumbledore on. "Go on, Albus, give it a try. Unless you're feeling too old?"

"This will be fun, he says; I'm going last, he says. Oh, this is going to be _fun_, alright."

"Whoo! Go Albus!"

Dumbledore smiled leniently and gracefully stepped forwards to take his place at the computer.

"Right," he said, still smiling. "Now I'll just type my name..."

He trailed off expectantly, as if waiting for someone to yell "Don't do it!" and throw themselves in front of him. It had been known to happen, albeit rarely.

The staff stared back just as expectantly.

He sighed. A few moments later there was the tapping of keys. A few moments more and the tapping had not stopped. A few moments after that and he was on the receiving end of many suspicious gazes.

"I have a very long name, okay?"

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is known for a lot of things, not least for being a champion staller.

**o o o**

For once, Dumbledore chose the normal option for something – he clicked on the link to a standard dictionary, rather than the urban one. The expectant silence that filled the room quickly faded away as he read out, a little uncertainly, "Dumbledore: 18th Century English word for bumblebee**."** He gasped, looking absolutely stricken. "Oh, come _on_! Why was I not a Hufflepuff? Yellow and black..."

He wistfully trailed off, a dreamy look in his eyes. "So many wasted colour combinations. And I could have had an excuse when people ask me why I'm humming! Or I could have learned to make honey, or, or -" His rambling speech was interrupted by a furious staff member.

"Oh come on, a bumblebee - that's _it_?" McGonagall yelled. "No humiliation? No stupid meanings? Albus Dumbledore, _how do you make these things happen_?"

The man in question smiled serenely and shrugged. "It was easy – I just told the internet to buzz off."

Flitwick coughed uncomfortably at having to chasten the Headmaster, and gestured to a small and very old-looking sign affixed to the staffroom wall. It read: 'No puns maye be spoke within these noble walles, or the sayer wille be pun'shed with those terrible creatures; studentes...'

"Sorry, Filius," Dumbledore chirped. "but the Headmaster doesn't have to follow the rules. That why things around here are always entertaining!"

"You mispronounced 'ridiculous'," Snape said dourly. "and I'm happy to say that our entertainment is at an end – we've all put our names on that computery device, we've taken over the internet, and there's nothing left to do. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the time until term starts brewing." He stood to leave.

"Wait a minute, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving a worryingly shark-like grin, "there's still _one_ thing we can do. Do you know if the Quiddich field and the broom shed are still unlocked, Minerva?"

McGonagall nodded curtly. "I think so; but you cannot be serious Albus – none of us have played that infernal sport in about twenty years."

"Then I think it's about time we tried again, hmm?" He strode past them and dramatically threw open the door, ignoring the fact that it immediately bounced back closed again.

Computer forgotten, he raised an arm. "_To the Quiddich field!"_

**o o o**

Thirty minues or so later, the staff had forgotten their reluctance to play and the Quiddich field looked surprisingly similar to a war zone. Arguing voices floated across the grass.

"Way to catch the Quaffle, _Fumbledore_."

"Way to think of an original insult, _git_."

"You're a hypocrite, old man."

"_You_ need to man up."

A Bludger slammed into the back of Dumbledore's broom, knocking him of balance and causing him to go into an undignified tailspin.

Snape handed Trelawney her Bludger bat back, grinning.

"Oops..."

**o o o**

A few hours on, and the Hogwarts' staff began walking back up to the castle, covered in bruises and sopping wet after pushing each other repeatedly into the lake. The Quiddich game had ended in a draw after Trelawney took the Snitch and refused to give it back, and the Giant Squid had somehow managed to gain possession of the Quaffle. Flitwick and McGonagall had gotten into a duel – nobody really seemed to know why, least of all themselves.

Bickering and snickering, mud trailed behind the little group as they wandered off towards dry clothes and dinner. Dumbledore was already discussing his latest idea to get the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix into a friendly paintball game, while Flitwick mumbled incoherently about new records for sheer stupidity. Snape followed behind them, still smiling faintly.

"I _love_ Hogwarts," he said happily as he aimed a jinx at McGonagall's back.

**The End.**


End file.
